


Press A to Start

by SteelandSpice



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Animal Crossing References, Canon Asexual Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Comedy, Found Family, Gay Male Character, Kirby's Epic Yarn, M/M, Nazis, Parody, Pokemon References, References to Hitler, Vampyre game, Video Game Mechanics, Werewolf The Apocalypse, dating sim parody, fifa mention, mmo parody, professor layton mention, rpg parody, so many nazis are killed, stealth game parody, tetris mention, video game multiverse, wolfenstien game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteelandSpice/pseuds/SteelandSpice
Summary: Dating sim protag Penelope has been cheating for years using her hacking skills to pick up illegal perks from other games. Unfortunately for her, she's finally hacked the wrong game, and someone has tried to delete her save files.Afraid of being literally killed, Penelope hires a mage (from an MMO) and hero (from an RPG) team to insure her safety. This funky little team hacks their way through the game universe to find and eliminate her attacker.A parody of video games, video game logic, and video game character tropes.
Kudos: 8





	1. Loading

**Press A to Start**

**CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER**

****Ready Player 1...** **

**MARS**

Yeah, I'm player 1! I’m always player 1! I was the main character of my game (of course) and ever since I beat it I've been beating all the other games, and th— 

I am so sick of skeletons! How many skeletons can there possibly be?! At some point, I’ve gotta have killed them all, right?! How many people could possible be dead around here? What, are they reanimating for someth— 

… Whatever, I can handle this. I can handle anything. I can do anything. I've DONE everything. I am the best there ever was, ever will be, and ever has been!

Only problem is, well, maybe I’ve gotten a little too good. See, I don’t know how to find exciting gameplay anymore! So I’ve picked up a co-op. A player 2. Some support. Someone who knows where new adventure lies. And guess what? Little mage is already paying off. 

Just today he found another quest on the forum boards: ANOTHER adventure! And a simple protection gig for a girl who needs a hero? I don’t care if she kill-stole, if she owes money to some house-clan, or whatever else it is weak players can’t slay their way out of. I want something new.

**Welcome to the game.**

****Ready Player 2…** **

****FRIEDHELM** **

I’m a level 7 wizard. Out of, well, out of 100 levels. I feel it’s important for you to understand this, because I don’t want you to expect too much. I don’t want you dragging me on any high level quests then getting upset because I can only do level 7 spells. Like candlelight, growtree, or protection-within-three-inch-radius…

See, the problem is that I have no XP. I can’t gain XP because I’m too weak, because I’m only level 7. I’m sick of killing chickens for hours trying to level up. I’ve read every rule book, every single guidebook. I’ve memorized maps and rankings and character names. They don’t help. I even know  _ how _ to cast high level spells, in  _ theory _ but all the knowledge in the world can’t help you if you can’t apply it.

…I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve found a hero then. A hero who needs a little bit of knowledge. I suppose it’s a good thing that people are always getting themselves into insanely dangerous situations in which death could be a real possibility… 

I’m only a level 7 wizard. It’s important you know that. Because after this mission? Well, I want you to know how far I’ll have come.

**Welcome to the game.**

****Ready Player 3...** **

****???** **

~~ I don’t ask questions. I don’t return without a mission complete notice. I don’t  _ do _ collateral. Every person I’ve killed was a threat; to me, or to the ones who put bread on my table. You could say I’m the best at what I do, and you’d be right. ~~

~~ My mission is simple— Capture the girl, bring her back. My employer said she stole something from his game, some kind of weapon. My files say the girl isn’t a fighter of any kind, nor does she appear to have a large security detail. Poor meddling amateur. This one should be easy. ~~

**Welcome to the game.**

**Ready Player 4…**

**PENELOPE**

The sun glints off my silver laptop as I snap it open. I slide my Chanel sunglasses (gift from Kevin, intimacy level 6) down my  _ perfect _ ski slope nose, a smirk on my ruby red lips. Manicured nails (paid for by Joe, intimacy level 28) flash across my keyboard. I shouldn’t be on any networks, I know, but this is  _ so important _ . If I don’t keep up with my social ranking? I  _ don’t  _ even _ want _ to  _ know. _

My rank is  _ only  _ 30?!

Ugh, I’m above this. I should be rank 1. My wardrobe? My hairstyle? Everything down to my favorite _ color _ is  _ perfectly  _ tailored to climb this social ladder. To become the  _ most  _ popular, after all, is to obtain the  _ most  _ hot boyfriends. What else matters in life besides that?

Well. Well, well, well. Well. There is my one little talent, my way with computers. But whatever it was I found lurking in my game’s code yesterday hacked back… let me just check  _ that _ situation quickly. Anyhow, yes, that’s I’m in hiding, currently. Why else would I  _ ever _ put my  _ beautiful  _ honey blond hair back? Hide its flowing...

_ Someone tried to delete one of my backup save files?!?!? _

That’s _ insane _ ! That’s my _ life _ saved in there! All I had wanted was climb a  _ few  _ ranks… or all the ranks, with a little bit of code manipulation, perk-borrowing, and in-game modifications. What right does someone have to be mad about  _ that _ ? This will disrupt everything, won’t it?

No matter. I snap the laptop shut. I know that quite a few heroes are looking for work out there. I’m not going to make this easy for  _ anyone. _

**Welcome to MY game.**


	2. Level 1

**Level One**

Penelope stepped out of her soft pink portal into the soft, warm sunlight of the delightful— and better yet, neutral— little social sim she had selected for their meeting. Around her, cutesy anthropomorphic animals went about their lives, and little butterflies and other bugs buzzed by her head. She swatted them away, absolutely disgusted. She checked the impeccably designed golden watch (from Chad, intimacy level 34) on her perfectly delicate wrist and noted that  _ she _ was exactly on time. Her companions, on the other hand, were  _ late. _ She presumed they had taken public transport from their games to their set meeting spot; after all, not everyone had hacking skills as advanced as hers. And that meant that not everyone had the ability to create portals between games. Instead they were stuck taking the train-like system that connected every game. 

Actually, to be completely honest, public transport was easier in just about every way— for a nominal fee, one could travel from any game in existence to almost any other game quickly and with very little effort. However, public transport was easily traceable, and _for_ _once_ Penelope didn’t want anyone to notice her. By the time she reached the game’s train station, she could see the train pulling into view. The train slowed to a stop, and, amongst the villagers, out-stepped an _absolutely built_ fantasy fighter-class and a dorky-looking mage boy.

Penelope put on her best boyfriend-winning smile and held out her hand to the pair. The mage took her hand sweetly and nervously introduced himself as Friedhelm. He was cute, in a nerdy way. When she offered her hand to the fighter, he swatted at it as if attempting to perform a low-five with an unreasonable amount of force. Penelope pulled her hand back, feigning agony, but the man introduced himself as Mars in a boisterous tone and took no notice. Penelope decided that it didn’t matter how hot he was; he wasn’t worth the trouble.

Holding her surely-broken hand to her chest, Penelope glared at Mars and beckoned the boys to follow her to a more secluded place; under a tree, by a river. Mars was immediately overbearing. As Penelope tried to explain her situation, she couldn’t help but notice how he leaned over her and Friedhelm. She took a step back, but he mirrored her. She settled, realizing that this was just going to be how things were gonna be, and began her story.

“Okay, so, I don’t know how much  _ experience _ you guys have with dating sims,” she began, then snickered, because the answer was  _ obviously  _ none, “but they’re, like,  _ super competitive.  _ Every girl is like, the hottest girl, and every guy is like… the  _ hottest _ guy.” Friedhelm nodded intently, if somewhat critically. Mars appeared to be distracted by a nearby yellow butterfly. “Every day, when you pick out your outfit, that’s like the  _ most important _ decision of your  _ life.  _ It’s  _ really hard _ , guys, so sometimes, I use my little talents, and I, uh, I hack other games for their perks. You’d be surprised what kinds of perks mmos and sim games have that can give a boy-seeking fashionista an  _ edge. _ ”

Friedhelm wondered why he’d never thought of that, if maybe… just maybe, this was the solution to his problems.

“Of course, hacking like that can be, y’know, dangerous. Like, _really_ dangerous, like you can _die._ ” Ah. An answer enough for Friedhelm. “And, in my case, I… discovered something when implementing one of these perks. Something that was corrupting my game. I thought I could figure out what it was, if I just kept looking through the source files long enough, but then I got locked out! And the next time I checked, something— _someone_ — had tried to delete my save file. It was like… _really_ scary.”

Mars and Friedhelm were taken aback, somewhat unexpectedly. Sure, this girl had clearly lived an overwhelmingly soft life, but someone coming after your save file was worse than murder. Most games had provisions for death; either extra lives, or respawn points, or starting the level over again. And even then, death was just a part of life. But if your save file was deleted… you ceased to have ever existed.

Friedhelm awkwardly placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Despite the wizard’s awkwardness, she did as she usually did with any man and attempted to appeal to his Big Strong Hero-Man Complex; she shuddered against him, a single tear gracing her cheek. Then she took advantage of his closeness to open his flirting options. Huh. There were none, at least for her. Okay, whatever. She took a deep breath and regained her composure, blotting the moisture from her eyes so as to not mess up her eyeliner.

“Thankfully, I’d already taken  _ precautions _ to protect my files. Whoever came after me is definitely dealing with a  _ pretty nasty  _ virus right now. But I’m  _ scared. _ ”

Mars finally spoke up. “So, what I’m hearing is… you want me to kill that guy for you? Because I can totally kill that guy for you.”

Penelope almost laughed. The enthusiasm was appreciated, and Mars was almost forgiven for his earlier egregious act of hand-focused violence. “Yeah, that’s why I called in some…” Penelope looked Mars and Friedhelm up and down, “...  _ pros. _ ” Yeah, no, her heart wasn’t in that one. “Thing is, I don’t really _ know _ who’s after me. I feel like there’s nothing I can do until, you know, they _ find _ me.”

As if on cue, a single red balloon attached to a small, white present with a red ribbon floated toward them out of the sky.

Friedhelm gasped. A present! He pointed a finger at the balloon and shouted, with as much manliness as he could muster, “Magic Dart!” And at that, a sliver of magical energy was cast, and his aim was true. The skin of the balloon was no match for the 'very powerful' magic toothpick that hit it, and the balloon popped, sending the gift careening at high speed to the ground.

“Good job!” Mars said. He’d always felt that encouraging low-level players was important.

“Yeah, that balloon  _ very nearly _ floated a few feet above us. That would have been  _ terrible. _ ” Penelope wasn’t so good at building others up.

Friedhelm took the praise pretty seriously.

“Well, the present is  _ probably _ for  _ me,  _ so one of you  _ big manly men _ should go get it for me.” Penelope accented her statement with a hairflip.

“Wait, it might be a trap!” Mars barred Friedhelm from approaching the present with an outstretched arm.

“What? Why would it be a trap? It’s a  _ present. _ ” Friedhelm spun out of Mars’s range, walking backward away from the group as he sassed the larger man. “What’s honestly gonna be in a gift this small? How many enemies do you think could fit in this box? You think, like, say, twenty-or-so dudes are gonna pop out and deck me? That could literally never happ—”

Friedhelm tripped over the present, because of course he did. He managed to steady himself briefly, but as he turned on his heel to open the damned gift he realized quite suddenly that he was face-to-face with twenty-or-so dudes. They were Nazis. And one of them punched Friedhelm in the face.

This new development was alarming, and perplexing.

“Dammit, mageboy!” Mars leapt into action and literally just murdered all the Nazis. Like, wow. They were really murdered. Those were some real dead Nazis.

“I’ve… never seen anyone be  _ murdered _ before,” Penelope began, but she didn’t appear very bothered. “Seems about like how it is on TV, I guess.”

Mars suddenly appeared at her side, leaning against the tree. “Did you like it?” He beamed.

“Hm.  _ No _ .” Penelope had already decided that this one wasn’t worth it. His relationship counter was  _ zero _ . Somehow she wasn’t surprised. “But, now that they’re  _ dead, _ I should be able to track their digital trails.” She started tapping on her handheld and reading through the traces left by the Nazis.

“Oh, sweet. I have enough gold left for the train fare!” Friedhelm said from the ground.

“Oh, uh,  _ no. _ ” Penelope was stunned by everyone else’s ignorance. “We’ll have to travel by _ portal.  _ Public transport draws too much  _ attention, _ and is easily traceable. It might take a while, though. Seems like the Nazis took the long way around.”

“Ha! You’re looking at the best gamer there is! I’ve been tearing through games for years now,” Mars boasted.

Friedhelm gulped nervously. Technically, he did know  _ how _ to brute force his way into another game, but he’d never done it. He didn’t think he had the capacity. One slip up and you could end up in the void…

“Hey,  _ nerd. Trust _ me.” Penelope snapped her fingers a few times in Friedhelm’s face— he’d sorta tuned out for a second— then returned to tapping at her handheld. “I’ve got the signal, and I’m good at locating other games. Don’t be  _ weak _ .” A baby pink portal opened in front of them and Penelope gestured toward it while Friedhelm peered at it, attempting to study it up close.

Well, being weak was the one thing Friedhelm was actually good at, so… no sense in changing n—

Mars pushed Friedhelm into the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press A to Start was written by the writers of Steel & Spice!  
> If you like what we do, and you want to see more of it, follow us on twitter @Spicesteel or on tumblr @steelandspice.  
> (And that's where the art is!)


	3. Level 2

**Level Two**

They stepped from the portal into a brightly colored little world absolutely bursting with life. Really, teeming with it. Just filled to the seams with bizarre life forms wriggling around. 

“Hey, I like this animation!” Friedhelm smiled down at his cutely rendered robes before checking their save menu. Maybe this portal hopping thing wouldn’t be so bad. “And, look at that; you’re a beauty, Penelope.”

“Yes. I know.” She was too busy on her handheld to notice the creatures rolling past or anything else, really.

“No,” Friedhelm said, “I meant your name— it’s changed to Beauty Penelope. And, uh, mine says Nerd, hmmm… points for accuracy. Yours says PokéFan, Mars!” 

Mars scoffed, prodding some type of electrified rabbit thing with his toe. “Lies. I hate pokes. I’m too ticklish.” 

“You’re ticklish?” Friedhelm’s eyes lit up. 

“Mmmhmmm.” Mars’s eyes begged  **can I eat these creatures?**

Penelope finally looked up. “Okay! I found our next game…” She registered the sight of the animals. “Huh. I  _ guess _ these are  _ sort of  _ cute.”

A ten-foot purple worm fell out of tree. 

Penelope froze in abject horror. 

“Gobbledygook,” it bubbled. 

She screamed. Mars leapt into action, punting the thing clear out of the woods then shielding his eyes a moment to watch it vanish into a twinkle in the sky. *Ting!* 

“Absolutely superb. Let’s hunt!” He picked up two sticks and started to fashion a weapon, his title changing to TeamRocketGrunt. 

“No-no-no-no! God, I  _ hate _ nature!” Penelope forced their next portal open and abandoned Friedhelm to drag Mars in after her. 

The next world was considerably better rendered. Penelope's hair flip gained 50% efficiency for improved graphics.

“Ruins,” she observed. “At least they aren’t full of disgusting animals. I only  _ pretend _ to like animals when they’re owned by cute boys.” 

Immediately following that statement, as though the universe sought to personally nerf her, the massive foot of some colossal beast came down within view through a collapsed wall and shook the ground. 

“Aaand we’re not going outside now.” She sat down and set to typing. 

Mars ran over to the hole in the wall and peered up at the thing. “Oh,” but he sounded disappointed. “Aw, hell.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Friedhelm was surprised that his accomplice wasn’t rearing to fight. 

“I already beat this game, that’s all.” He sounded so sad. 

“Really? You beat something that big?” 

“Yeah. Like… more than one, my guy.” 

“Wow.” But Friedhelm's awe wasn’t enough to cheer him up this time. So he tried a new tactic: he tried to tickle Mars. 

The attack was easily deflected. “Hey.” And deflected again. “Hey! Are you tryna get your hands broke?” 

“No! Of course not! I’m trying to tickle you!” 

Mars leapt back farther than any real attack could have provoked. “You-you— why? Friedhelm. Why?” 

“To make you smile.” 

“Uh, but I said I hate it. So—” 

“Okay!” Penelope stood up. “Next game locked. You two can quit running down your flirting dialogue options now.” 

“What?!” Friedhelm turned very red. 

“Wut?” Mars hadn’t been listening. 

She opened the next portal, and they stepped into some shit game no one had ever played. 

“What  _ is _ this?” Penelope demanded of her suddenly triangular boob animation. “Friedhelm?! Guidebook knowledge?!” 

“Uhm, I’m not sure, but I think—” 

“Mars! Experience knowledge?!” 

“Nah, brah. This is beyond me.” 

“As so many things are.” Penelope sighed dramatically. “Useless,  _ useless _ boys. Unbelievable. I have to hack  _ everything _ myself.”

As Penelope furiously tapped away at her keyboard, poorly designed werewolf shapes started shambling out of the shadows. Friedhelm smiled slightly to himself. His guess was right. 

“Yas! Enemies! HERO TI—” 

“No, Mars!” Friedhelm stepped toward the wolfmen. “They’re intelligent. They could be friendly.”

Said wolfmen correctly identified the Friedhelm before him as a witch and punched him in the face. 

“YES! NOT FRIENDS!” Mars loved a good battle. 

He attacked with gusto, pocketing random monster parts as he tore through the crowd. Penelope ignored all the commotion so she could focus on her handheld. What would she do anyways? Fight? Physically? Ha. 

“I’m  _ opening _ the  _ next _ game!” she called. 

Mars picked up Friedhelm and barreled after Penelope, launching them all through the portal. They tumbled out onto some gother-than-usual cobblestones. Penelope yelped, struggled out from under the other two, and then screamed bloody murder. 

“You  _ tore _ my gold-leafed leggings! They were from an  _ achievement _ !! I had to marry  _ ten _ people for these!”

“Ten… people?” Frieldhem realized he wasn’t far behind just Mars in terms of experience. 

Mars push-upped himself into a standing position. “And you can marry ten more!” Achievements were like water to Mars. Gamer points ran through his veins like the blood that actually flowed there.

“I mean, I  _ could _ , but I’d have to start  _ over  _ to get it  _ again _ , and—”

“Do you want my clothes?” Whether Mars was offering a spare set or the clothes off his body was not clear.

“No! Ew! That would look  _ worse _ !” 

Friedhelm was not so quick to dismiss that suggestion. “Wait, Penelope, maybe you should hear him out.” 

“I don’t want  _ your _ baggy clothes either!” 

“I… wasn’t offering…” 

Penelope smoothed her hand over the tear in her knee. “Ugh. Blood is so last season.  _ Whatever _ . Let’s just get to the next game.” She pulled out her handheld. “You all just hold off the werewolves, or like, whatever.”

“No werewolves here. This is a vampire game. Dracula, specifically, but hopefully we won’t meet him.”

“Hopefully we will.” Mars looked around as though the legendary vampire might be under a rock nearby. 

Penelope was only half-listening at this point and didn’t respond. Mars took up the torch of socializing. “Hey Friedy, how’d ya know what game this is so quick, anyways?”

A look of anguish flashed on Friedhelm's face at the use of the nickname, but he sighed and answered. “The Belmont family crest.” 

“The... whatnow?”

“It’s really not important.” 

“Ah-haha!” Penelope opened a new portal. “Prepare to get even  _ more _ vampyr-y, boys!”

“Vampire-y?” Mars repeated. 

“No. Vamp _ yr _ ,” Friedhelm corrected. 

The portal engulfed them.

This game was prettier than the last one, but everything was equally as gloomy. Penelope took a moment in this atmosphere of darkness to stare into a puddle. And contemplate her outfit. So much gloom really ruined it, like a physical shawl of ugliness. And bad lighting. 

The boys were getting antsy. 

“How many more of these portals are there?” Friedhelm tried to politely inquire. 

Penelope responded with a deep, deep, soul-wrenching sigh. “Well,” she said. “Well. We  _ are _ much closer to the source now. I think  _ one _ more game should put us within range of identifying it.” 

“What’s that game gonna be?” 

“Call of Duty.” Some game she’d literally never heard of.

“Oh, ye?” Mars was fashioning a weapon out of loose stone shards. “I’m not really much for FPS games.” 

“F… P… S.” Penelope sounded out each letter as though they were a little too large to fit comfortably on her tongue. 

“First Person Shooter,/!” Friedhelm and Mars said at the same time with different punctuation. The little mage smiled slightly. 

“Guns,” she said with distaste, “are  _ not  _ sexy.”

“I agree!” Mars jumped on their first commonality. “It’s large swords that are sexy!” 

“ _ Compensating _ isn’t sexy either.” She verbally punched him in the dick. 

Mars laughed. Friedhelm was really,  _ really  _ sure that Penelope did not have a point about the compensating thing. And he was pretty sure they both knew it. 

Another portal opened, perhaps the last one, because, as they entered into a cloud of gunsmoke over a generic battlefield, they found Nazis. 

“Kill!” Mars shouted, lunging for a rifle. 

“No, not yet!” Penelope ducked behind a half section of wall. She punched some numbers in. Mars hadn't listened at all. Friedhelm squeezed up beside the fashionista to cast protection-within-five-inch-radius. 

“Ew,” Penelope said, but it was half-hearted. They were finally close enough to the source game that she could just… 

“It’s  _ Robo-Hitler _ !!” she shouted. Friedhelm gave her a wide-eyed look and she shook him. “ _ Robo-Hitler _ ! He’s the  _ one _ ! He’s trying to  _ kill me _ !”

“Oh, no,” Friedhelm whispered. “That’s the worst.”

“Ah,” Penelope slumped back against the wall, dropping her handheld into her lap. Despite the terrible news, she seemed comforted. “Ah, you’re right. He  _ is _ bad. Like, Robo-Hitler  _ sucks _ , but, like, I was kinda low-key having this, like, moral conundrum about having to  _ murder _ someone to live, but now that I  _ know _ it’s  _ Robo-Hitler _ , like, who cares?” 

“A decent point…” Friedhelm was a little afraid. He had to fight a whole Robo-Hitler now? Aw, geez.

“Did you say Robo-Hitler!?” Mars shouted from the battlefield. “Oh, hey, extra life!” Penelope ignored him.

“And Wolfenstein,” she said to Friedhelm, “is only two games away!”

“That’s… great.” Awww, geez. 

_ Finally _ , she thought while he despaired,  _ I’m figuring things out!  _

“Uh, Penelope?” Mars was looking over his shoulder at the pair. “What the HELL did you hack!?”

Hm. Maybe she didn’t have it all figured out. “I don’t… know? I hack lots of things!”

Above them, amidst a hail of bullets, feet dashed over the exposed beams on the former house they’d been hiding in. A shadow swept over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press A to Start was written by the writers of Steel & Spice!  
> If you like what we do, and you want to see more of it, follow us on twitter @Spicesteel or on tumblr @steelandspice.  
> (And that's where the art is!)


	4. Level 3

**Level Three**

Friedhelm and Penelope didn’t notice the shadowy figure until she was upon them. Or even then, really. Low perception stats. The lithe figure dropped from the ceiling, poised to capture her target, when something else caught her arm. She looked over her shoulder to see, approximately, the tallest man she’d ever seen.

“Hey there, buddy,” Mars said, casually, as if he hadn’t practically teleported here from the firefight twenty-or-so feet away to save his comrades from being attacked. “Whattaya doin’, friend.”

The mercenary smirked. She hadn’t come here expecting a fight, but she didn’t see how it would make a difference. She pulled the arm Mars had caught free, pulling a dagger just as fast and executing a quick backflip out of his range before pivoting to lunge again. He was ready, though— the man was quicker than she’d expected for his bulk, and he had a broadsword ready out of his inventory at a moment’s notice.

In the next few moments of blade ringing against blade, the mercenary felt the need to reassess her situation. He was keeping up. He shouldn’t be keeping up. She needed a minute to think. She searched her surroundings for something, anything she could use to her advantage—

The little wizard was within reach, still deflecting shrapnel from the girl. Deftly, the mercenary stepped back and pivoted away, pulling Mars forward and using his own weight to send him stumbling. Then she dragged the mage up from the floor by his upper arm and held her dagger to his throat. “Hey, big guy. Why don’t we talk this over for a minute?” she commanded.

When Mars stood back up, he looked genuinely panicked, and that made Friedhelm panic. The mage began to quiver violently, like a cold, wet cat. It made it awfully difficult for the mercenary to keep a hold on him and also not slit his throat by accident.

“Hey, kid,” she whispered in his ear. “Calm down or you’re gonna end up getting yourself stabbed. Don’t worry, I don’t kill players less than one-seventh my level anyway.”

Oh. Huh. One-seventh? Friedhelm did some quick math. He felt a pang in his chest, one of despair, and it felt how he imagined it would feel if someone ripped his still-beating heart from his chest. Especially if, like, there was some shadowy, corrupted magic enveloping the hand as it wrapped around his heart. Like, specifically if it was a dark, handsome, evil man with a funny name who yanked his heart out. Yeah, like that. Thank the Gods nothing like that would ever happen. 

At any rate, Friedhelm went deathly still as he lived this vicious mockery-induced private nightmare.

“ _ Hey _ !” Penelope stood up abruptly, shouting at the assassin with hands on her hips. “Why don’t you pick on someone  _ your own size _ !”

The mercenary smirked and turned to face the girl. “Like whom, you?”

Penelope gasped. This girl did  _ not  _ share her size zero perfect figure. “No!”

Before either party had the chance to really risk Friedhelm’s life, a barrage of gunfire aimed directly at the party distracted them. Both Mishka and Mars were immediately engaged in blocking bullets, the mercenary throwing the mage aside to defend herself. A bullet tore Penelope’s blouse, and she screamed as though she’d been shot. Nazi soldiers had surrounded all remaining exits.

The mercenary leapt upward, grabbing onto a rafter and swinging herself onto the beam. The fighter could take care of that, she needed to focus. Now that the big guy was distracted, she needed to grab her target and get out. Then she could bring the girl to the agreed upon drop-off and forget about this whole incident. She crept across the beams silently, thankful for the commotion taking the heat off her back.

Below her, Penelope was furiously typing on her handheld, desperately trying to open a portal, while Friedhelm… sorta stood guard? He was doing his best, but there  _ were  _ multiple Nazis and a mercenary about. Said mercenary dropped down behind the pair once again, punching Friedhelm in the face and knocking him out, then grabbed her real target.

Penelope shrieked. “Get  _ off _ of me!” 

The mercenary slipped her a smile and took her target in, fully knowing there was nothing here to be concerned about now. “Hey, nice ripped leggings.” She twisted the girl’s arm behind her.

Penelope stumbled but managed to catch herself and regain her balance. Indignant, she shrieked, “I do  _ not  _ take fashion compliments from  _ Nazi sympathizers _ !” Especially when the compliment was about her  _ totally ruined  _ gold leaf achievement leggings.

The mercenary stopped cold in the process of tying her up. “Whoa, that’s a pretty severe accusation. I am absolutely not a Nazi sympathizer.”

“Then  _ why,”  _ Penelope began, emboldened, “are you working for  _ Robo-Hitler _ ?!” Then she gasped. “Oh, oh my God. You’re like, just a Nazi, aren’t you? Are there Asian Nazis? Is that allowed?”

“I do not work for Robo-Hitler. I would never work for Robo-Hitler, and I am most certainly not a Nazi.” The mercenary was deeply offended.

“Oh yeah? Then who sent  _ you  _ and  _ a bunch of Nazis _ to  _ kill  _ me?”

The mercenary considered the large amount of Nazis around the building and how they had shown up with her, and she supposed she could see how the conclusion was come to. “I don’t normally reveal client information, but you’ll be meeting him soon, so for your information, the name he gave me was Rob Leithor.”

“Ro—  _ Rob Leithor _ ?? That’s— look, you’re working for Robo-Hitler. I can prove it. If you don’t  _ want _ to work for Robo-Hitler, let me, someone who’s trying to  _ kill  _ Robo-Hitler, live.”

The mercenary eyed the girl suspiciously. This girl was going to kill Hitler? Not alone. She shoved Penelope away from her. “Okay, but you’ll have to prove it to me. If Hitler is the one that wants you dead, and you have proof, and you’re off to kill him, then... then I may just have to join you.” The instant contempt on the other girl’s face at her words caused her to smirk. “You can call me Mishka, by the way.” And, if this girl was wrong, she’d have taken herself to Rob Leithor anyway. 

That was when Mars came running back to them, covered in a disturbing amount of blood with an even more disturbing amount of Nazis following him. “I’m glad we’ve made friends but it’s time to go!” He hoisted Friedhelm, still out cold, over his shoulder.

“We’re  _ not  _ friends!” Penelope took out her handheld, hurriedly tapping a few more buttons. “I— There’s  _ no time _ ! I can’t get us to the right game, I have to open a  _ random _ one!”

“Just step on it, Goldie!” Mishka glanced back at the massive amount of Nazis about to surround them.

Penelope tapped a button with some finality and a portal opened. “Ugh, we are  _ not _ not talking about this!”

And then they talked about it.


	5. Level 4

**Level Four**

Mishka was now a part of the team, apparently, whether or not they liked it. And Penelope hated it. Probably because, and this was obvious, Mishka was a " _ terrible _ and _ very _ mean  _ serial killer _ ." So tensions were high as the ill-fated “team” came forth from the portal into a very pleasant grove near a not so pleasant temple ruin. Penelope stormed over to the only signs of life nearby, a campsite centered around still smoldering embers. All around this camp she tore, like she was looking for something in the left behind, through backpacks labelled  _ N.D  _ and  _ L.C _ , weapons stores, and flashlights. Finally, she spun around and planted herself as though she was readying for a fight. 

“No,” she said, and it was aimed at Mishka. The boys dove out of the way. 

Mishka, who had been scouting the area for enemies, deflected with a jerk of the chin and chose the peace dialogue option. “I get why you’re upset. That’s a common reaction among targets. But, look, if I had known it was Hitler, I would have never taken this job.” 

Penelope was unaffected by logic. Her anger at being attacked, at her outfit being further ruined, at being stopped when she  _ was so close to a goal, _ was compounded by what she perceived in this assassin to be crimes against all womankind. “It was  _ obviously _ Hitler.  _ God _ , don’t you even check your jobs  _ at all _ ?” 

“Rob Leithor looks nothing like Hitler,” Mishka pointed out, trying very hard to keep her road high. 

“It’s an anagram fo—” Friedhelm might as well not have spoken for Penelope's indignant shout. 

“Rob Leithor is  _ clearly _ an anagram for Robo-Hitler!!” 

Mishka closed her eyes and pictured something nice. Like something that could get blood out of cotton. Mmmm. “I may be a killer. But my standards are higher than Hitler.” 

"Oh  _ really? _ Because nothing about your lazy wardrobe and butchered hair speaks  _ standards. _ " 

And there it was. Mishka’s eyes snapped open, and she regarded Penelope in a new light. So it was like that, was it? “My appearance has nothing to do with my work ethic. And even if it did—” 

“Why’d you even bother choosing the  _ girl _ body. This,” she gestured to the woman’s whole being, “is  _ not  _ appealing.”

“To whom?” Mishka was really, really tempted to stab this girl’s eyes out. She didn’t even have to die! It was a compromise. 

Penelope was on a streak with her dialogue choices. She also demonstrated that she was not listening to a word Mishka said with the response, “I bet you’ve  _ never _ even had a boyfriend. Not a  _ single _ boy has ever looked sideways at  _ that _ unflattering outfit. I bet you’ve never even had a  _ girlfriend _ !” 

Mishka was tired. So very tired. There was no time to explain her lack of desire for any sort of romance. “I get it. You’re not worth speaking to.” 

“ _ What _ was that?!” 

Mishka drew her daggers. Penelope screamed and retreated into the woods, calling for Mars to help her: he did not, a little too distracted rummaging through those backpacks. Mishka sheathed the daggers and sat down on one of the bedrolls with a deep sigh. Friedhelm cautiously approached. As usual, his timing was wrong. 

Mishka stared at the boy momentarily, as if contemplating his face, his name. "Friedhelm?" she asked, "Doesn't that mean 'protector', or some such? How inaptly named. What could you possibly be protecting?" 

The little mage boy glanced back, briefly, at the hero behind him, giving a small smile and standing a little taller. "Oh, nothing really... I try my best though." 

At that moment Mars was attempting to juggle four knives that he’d found. “Hey, guys! Look at this!” He grinned. “Ya know, this isn’t even that hard! Do you think you could do this, Friedy? Maybe you should try—” And then he missed a beat and a knife fell point first into his forearm and his flinch sent the other knives raining down upon him. 

Mishka smirked. 

Friedhelm twitched. "It's harder than it looks." 

"Huh,” Mars said. He started walking slowly and deliberately toward the rest of the group. "'Ey, Friedy! I seem to have had an... accident with my, uh, with these knives... You happen to know any healing spells?" 

"I'm a wizard, not a cleric." 

"That’s okay! I can bleed it out!" Mars laughed. 

A sigh from the mage. "But I do know how to sew. Come over here." 

"Why... is there _blood..._ _everywhere?!_ " Penelope had returned from the woods after a minute, realizing that she was not being chased.

"I killed Mars." Mishka deadpanned. 

Penelope immediately calmed down. "Oh. I thought something  _ bad _ had happened. Anyhow, I found this red and white package in the bushes over there, and I thought it was particularly  _ odd _ that—"

"HEALTHPACK!" Mars jerked away from Friedhelm, who had the needle already in the larger man’s arm. The action ripped the thread from his skin and muscle, leaving the mage holding a bloody mess. Friedhelm accepted that this was the way things were. Meanwhile, Mars tore the healthpack from Penelope’s hands and began biting massive chunks out of the thing. Sinew closed over bone, blood running back into his body as she looked on, mortified.

"OMG..." She stepped back, nose wrinkling. "You people are  _ freaks. _ "

Once Mars was fully healed, he grinned. “Let's eat!” Though partially self-motivated, Mars knew that food brought people together. 

Penelope pouted, perching herself daintily on a tree stump. “But there’s  _ nothing _ to eat here.”

“I’ll fix that!” Mars picked up a loose bow and a quiver of arrows. “Someone start me a fire!” He sprinted into the forest. 

“Do magic,” Penelope demanded of Friedhelm. 

“Uhm,” he responded, trying to figure out how to phrase his lack of fire magic in a way that sounded cool. 

Mishka leaned forward and sparked the fire with some flint and steel, saving him. 

“Oh, darn,” he said “she beat me to it.” 

No one was fooled. 

Mishka sat back again, fixing her dark eyes on Penelope. “So, you sexist bi—” 

“Whoa! Hold up.  _ No _ . I’m  _ not _ sexist. I  _ love  _ sex.” 

Mishka’s eyes burned into her. “Okay.” She steepled her fingers. “Anyways, Golden Girl, what exactly is it that you do here?” 

Penelope felt that  _ Golden Girl _ was extremely offensive in that tone of voice, even though she felt like it should be a compliment. She was also irritated that this bitch would imply Friedhelm was somehow doing more than her. “I  _ am _ this quest you— you  _ quest-stopper _ .” 

“Mhmm.” Mishka’s eyes narrowed. “But either of them could beat you. Easily.” 

Penelope would not say that she did something as ugly as guffaw, but— “ _ So _ ? I checked their romance options. And I could, well, if Friedhelm were available at least, I could beat them in like  _ two _ interactions.” She realized this might imply she was the tiniest bit into either of them and, to make sure that this could not be even remotely interpreted, she added, “but, like, I’m only into Alekzandr right now.”

Mishka’s eyebrow ticked up, the kind of gesture a seasoned LA Noire player could read as skepticism. “I don’t know who that is, but I can tell by the way you just said his name that it’s spelled stupid.” 

Mars crashed back into the camp then with a ridiculous amount of climate-inappropriate food, and Friedhelm, who had been standing by in this kind of awkward haze, whispered, “Oh, thank the Gods.” 

Mars produced a large pan from… well, he set it over the fire and set about cooking while humming off-tune. Friedhelm could picture him hovering over hundreds of like fires, in hundreds of games, normally alone. It made him feel so… sad. 

“Hey, let me help.” 

Mars was a little surprised, but he smiled a huge smile. “Yeah! Take this werewolf foot.” 

“... wait.” 

“To eat for perks!” 

Mishka and Penelope had not disengaged from combat. 

“If you think I’m  _ useless _ just say it!” Penelope was in no way prepared to hear it. 

“Fine. You’re useless.” 

Penelope was shook. “No!  _ No! _ Nooooooooo—  _ untrue _ ! I’m the  _ most _ useful! Did you not just see Mars  _ stab _ himself? And—  _ and _ Friedhelm's magic is— oh, look. Fine. I’ll show you! You don’t even  _ know _ !” 

Penelope started furiously typing on her handheld. Mishka leaned back, the firelight hitting her face in a very dramatic fashion. It was easy, she thought, so easy. And if she didn’t feel the need to kill Hitler to make up for working with him even an instant, like any reasonable person, she’d leave. Actually. Maybe she should just leave. She could get to Wolfen—

“FIFA!” Penelope shouted triumphantly. 

Everyone turned to her. 

“Bless you,” Friedhelm said. 

“No. I found the Nazis! I just looked up Germans—” 

“Garmans? Goblins?!” 

“No, Mars—  _ Germans _ . And they’re in FIFA! That’s where we go next.” Penelope, in a very childish move for even her, stuck her tongue out at Mishka. 

The mercenary was unimpressed. “What about Wolfenstein?” 

Penelope scoffed at her ignorance. “Please. They sent  _ you _ , so they  _ know _ we  _ know _ , so they’re clearly hiding now,  _ duh _ . That’s why I searched Germans and not Nazis.” 

Friedhelm was impressed that she knew that much about Nazis, and Mishka had to admit she would change locations if she’d been compromised like that. “Fine. Our next stop is FIFA.” 

“After dinner!” Mars chimed in. 

“... After dinner.” 

The party ate a surprisingly delicious dinner together around the fire. While they ate Mars teased Friedhelm, stealing his hat and putting it on his own head, laughing that deep laugh. He insisted that he’d known Friedhelm long enough at this point to share gear, after they’d gone on a two whole missions already. 

Friedhelm gave up reaching for his hat, his specifically enchanted hat. “Fine, if you know me well enough to steal my hat, then I know you well enough to reveal your real name.”

Mars gave the mage a panicked look. “Buddy, no.”

Friedhelm put his hand out for his hat.

“No, you can’t...”

“I can.”

Mars sighed. He’d been outsmarted, blackmailed. He begrudgingly gave his friend his hat back.

The little mage gingerly placed his hat back on his head. “Thank you... Walmsley!”

Mars had never felt so betrayed. “Wh— buddy. Buddy. Why?”

Penelope burst out laughing, only barely stifling a snort. “ _ Walmsley _ ?”

“Hey! It’s a family name, okay!”

“Well it’s no  _ wonder  _ you decided to go by  _ Mars _ .” Penelope snickered. “ _ Walmsley. _ ”

Friedhelm giggled softly, and Mars shot the wizard a look, though the sparkle never left his eyes. “After all we’ve been through, Friedy, this is how you repay me? When we first worked together, I saved you from a DRAGON.”

Friedhelm suddenly looked bashful. “Which I, uh, hadn’t meant to find…” 

“Well, hey! That’s my job! And! You were right on the money with that secret treasure, and the weird rock with the extra life behind it. And for such a weak boss? I knew you’d be the best guide a guy could have—” 

“Such a weak boss,” Friedhelm repeated, rolling his eyes. He was thankful Mars had let him keep the extra life, though. The fighter certainly got him into enough trouble he was way underleveled for.

“— BUT if I had known it would lead to this day, I think I’d take it back, if I could,” Mars joked.

Mishka watched the two with a critical eye; she watched the way that they moved and interacted. Once they got to this FIFA thing, she thought to herself, she might need to reconsider alliances. Until then, well, this team was probably one of the most wholesome she’d ever been on. Barring one thing. She turned to Penelope. 

“So why did you steal a weapon from Hitler?”

Penelope choked. “ _ What _ ?! I would never! Is  _ that _ why he’s trying to kill me?! He’s  _ wrong _ !” 

Mishka thought about that for a moment. On the surface, it seemed true enough. What would this girl even begin to do with a weapon, of any sort? “Are you sure?” 

“I might have  _ hacked  _ whatever  _ game _ he’s from, but he’s hunting me for the  _ wrong _ reasons if it’s a  _ weapon  _ he thinks I took!” Penelope snapped. 

Hmm. Mishka shrugged, finishing her stew. As they broke up for the night into their sleeping arrangements, she noticed that Penelope did not have a bedroll like both boys did. Why would she? With a sigh, Mishka produced her own and then beamed the girl in the face with it. 

“Ow! What the  _ hell _ , Mishka?” Penelope yelped. 

Mishka said nothing, knowing that anything she tried to explain to her would only make things worse, and she, personally, understood that kind of mentality. Sure enough, left to her own devices for a handful of minutes, Penelope picked up the bed roll and examined it. 

“This does  _ not _ make us friends!” Penelope shouted. From the shadows, Mishka smirked. Of course it didn’t, Golden Girl, you have a lot to prove.


	6. Level 5

**Level Five**

Somehow, Germany was different than they'd imagined. 

It might have been something about the lack of buildings on fire, or dead evil zombie babies, or gunfire rain. 

"Wow, it's  _ so _ pretty here!" Penelope exclaimed, looking at the flowers in the windows of the brick homes that they passed. "There's no... propaganda, or like... war stuff. Oh, and just  _ look _ at these boys." She pointed to the banners placed every hundred feet. "They're all in just the  _ tightest _ little soccer uniforms." 

"What's a fifa, anyways?" Mars asked. "Do you think that's code for Robo-Hitler? Is it… an anagram?" 

Miska wasn’t sure that Mars was intelligent enough to make a callback joke. So she let it go. 

They found the center of this particular world at a type of massive coliseum filled to the brim with spectators. It stood to reason that if anything was here, that was probably the place they’d find it. 

Penelope tilted her head, regarding the entrances manned by security. “Hmmm. I  _ think _ I have an idea for how to get us  _ in _ there.” And then she checked out the boys in soccer uniforms again before tapping some numbers into her handheld. “Now, these aren’t the  _ cutest  _ outfits, but—” 

And they were all changed into soccer uniforms like the other NPCs. Penelope’s instincts were good here, maybe too good, because as soon as they were in uniform the game relocated them onto the field. 

Friedhelm jumped to action. "Don’t worry, guys I've studied their culture in preparation for this. I know how to blend." He stepped forward, straightlegged, and raised his arm in a stiff salute. "Heil Hitler!" 

Everything and everyone froze. Somewhere a woman fainted. One of the soccer boys sprinted over, yelling indignantly in German, and, as is the only appropriate response to such a thing, began to punch him violently in the face after tackling him to the ground. 

The party was silent for a moment, confused. Then suddenly... 

"ENEMIES!" Mars screamed, leaping forward. Before he could do much though, Mishka slit the soccer player's throat. 

"OMG! What— you can't just— but he was  _ so cute!  _ And that was  _ so awful! _ " 

"Wuss." Mishka wiped her bloody blade against her pants, staring pointedly at Penelope. 

"Wuss?! Yeah?! Well at least  _ I'm _ not a  _ total sociopath. _ " 

"At least I speak like a normal person." 

Unnoticed by the others, the dead body of the German had fallen on Friedhelm. Blood was soaking into his clothes. 

"Ahhh... someone please..." he whined, "So gross... really heavy..." 

Mars was busy fighting off soccer playing Germans and not really paying attention to anyone else. 

"Mars..." Nope. No help. "Maaars... it's so sticky, augh, Mishka? Hell, Penelope? Help?" 

Penelope and Mishka were having a catfight. 

Friedhelm was...  **alone** . 

"Okay... Growtree! Grow! Grow!" 

Slowly, a tree began to sprout out of the ground, pushing the body off of Friedhelm. Slowly. So slowly. 

"Have you  _ ever _ even had a boy  _ look  _ at you twice?" Penelope demanded, in Mishka's face. 

"Well, I've killed more men than you've kissed," Mishka shot back. 

"Growtree! Grow!" 

By then, Mars had gotten ahold of a soccer ball and was using it as a make-shit weapon. The six foot tall, muscular, hunk of a goalie that had seemed to have come from two smaller players was his current target. 

So he knocked him out. Headshot. Straight into the goal, ball and all. 

A soft, subtle buzzing sound emitted from the goal as the ball transformed into a soft, fuzzy blue light inside the net. 

"Whoa, _ look _ !" Penelope exclaimed, turning away from the conflict she’d been having with Mishka, "Is that a... portal?" 

"Awesome! Let's get out of here! Oh wait, I CAN’T— " Friedhelm began, still under the body, but before he could finish Mars had yanked him to his feet in classic hero fashion. 

"Hey buddy! How long have you been down there?" 

"Screw you." And he meant it. 

So with that they ran across the field, dodging angry, apparently non-Nazi, soccer players the whole way, before running into the blue portal in the goal. 

"What  _ is _ this place?..." Penelope's voice echoed. Everything in this new world was grey. Dead. Everything except this absolutely massive, and very brightly colored, rectangular construct. 

“It’s not next-gen gameplay, that’s for sure,” Mars said.

“Well, we’re even _ farther _ from Wolfenstein  _ now _ .” Penelope sighed. “It’ll take _ hours _ to travel back, even  _ if _ we aren’t… interrupted.” 

"Hello." A little voice interrupted.

The comrades all turned to see a block. Well... really four blocks fused into a bright orange square. With a face. "I'm the square block. Everyone loves the square block." 

"I don't," Mishka snapped. 

"Shut up. You don't know if you  _ do  _ or  _ not _ . We haven't gotten to...  _ know _ ... it yet." Penelope sniffed. “ _ This _ is why you'll  _ never _ find love or happiness.”

"Hello." Another block emerged, this one bright green; four blocks fused into a straight line. "I'm the straight block. Everyone likes me too." 

_ How do I kill it?  _ Mars wondered. Friedhelm backed up into Mars— close enough that he could feel his broad chest against his back— as another block, fluorescent blue in color, appeared. 

"Hello. I'm the L block. I think I'm okay." 

Blocks were coming. Emerging. Surrounding. 

"Hello," one said, whispering gently into Mishka’s ear, "I'm the staircase block. Everyone hates me." 

Blocks. So many brightly colored blocks. Surrounding them. Staring at them, unblinking. They gathered around our heroes in a tight circle. 

"What do you want from us?!" Friedhelm demanded. 

All the blocks went still. 

"Stack us..." 

The chant started with just one block, but slowly picked up speed as more and more blocks joined in. 

"Stack us. Stack us. Stack us! STACK US!" 

"Why is this happening?" Penelope cried. 

Mishka stabbed one. Her knife broke. 

"Someone stack them!" Friedhelm pleaded. 

"Why don't _ you?!" _ Penelope demanded. 

"They're terrifying!" 

"Well  _ I'm  _ not  _ touching _ them!" 

A block punched Friedhelm. It was the staircase block.

Mars dodged his falling body. "I've got this!" He picked up a block. "HERO TIME!" 

And he stacked it.


	7. Level 6

**Level Six**

Two games away from Tetris and Mars was still going on about how he’d built the tallest tower so he didn’t get why he’d lost. He didn’t seem keen on listening to Friedhelm explain it— no one else could— and they were all getting pretty sick of hearing about it. Things were even tenser because Penelope’s big move to prove her usefulness had gotten them further than ever from Robo-Hitler who, turns out, was still in Wolfenstein exhibiting no tactical sense. Mishka hadn’t said anything about this, but Penelope  _ knew,  _ she just  _ knew  _ that the beratement had to be coming. 

Things reached a boiling point in the third game since Tetris they made their way into. It was a cute game, and they were rendered in bite-sized versions of their usual art styles. Around them bustled a quaint little town full of shopkeepers and passerbys. Unfortunately, they were all a little too on edge to appreciate the scenery. 

Penelope, her outfit a pathetic shadow of its former self, worked on pulling up yet another portal while side-eyeing Mishka. Friedhelm cracked dried blood off his robes, mmm-hmming at Mars’s shouting about how he ‘never lost’ and it was ‘unbelievable’. On top of it all, Miska had lost a knife to some (bullshit) tetris blocks. But what happened that finally pushed them over the edge was something that had not happened in any other game; when Penelope opened her baby pink portal, some NPC blocked them from entering.

“So you want to enter this portal, huh?” Citizen 7 said. “Before you do that, you need to solve this geometry puzzle.”

“ _ Geometry?! _ ” Penelope shrieked. 

“I’ll take care of this,” Mars responded, having no idea what ‘geometry’ meant. 

But when he tried to pull his sword, a milkman appeared. “So you want to draw your weapon, huh? Before you do that, you’ll have to answer a riddle.” 

“A… riddle?” Mars thought it was unfair to expect him to answer a riddle without the ability to leave and consult the hints found in the quest-line. He looked helplessly back at Friedhelm. 

Mishka had had enough of all this nonsense. Her head turned the approximate 19 degrees needed to catch Penelope’s eye. “This is all your faul—”

“So you want to insult your teammate, huh?” A barkeep stepped between them. “First you have to figure out how to redistribute this here pitcher of water using a cup and a half-cup into these wine-glasses in under five choices.” 

They were trapped. The game wouldn’t let them move. This was when they started shouting at each other in earnest. 

Friedhelm rolled his eyes, letting the insults pass over him, and then he went to Mars first, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The answer is time.” He met his larger friend’s eyes. “And, buddy, you lost because the game— like I was trying to tell you— is about the opposite of making towers. Thank you for stacking them. You’re still my hero. Please listen better.” 

Friedhelm patted his shoulder and then moved onto Mishka, reaching over her to solve the puzzle in a neat three moves. Finished, he rocked back on his heels and smiled kind of awkwardly at her. “I think you’re being sincere, but please try to understand her better. Not just tolerate.” 

Then he went to meet his final foe. “Twenty-eight.” he said. He offered Penelope his hand. She gingerly laid one finger on it. He smiled. “You’re really useful, Penny—” 

_ Penny _ , she thought; their friendship levels must have increased at some point. 

“— and everyone makes mistakes. Please try to be gentler.” Friedhelm entered the portal, leaving the other three to exchange glances in his wake. 

“Was Friedhelm just  _ useful _ ?” Penelope asked. 

“Of course he was!” Mars said enthusiastically. “Ole’ Friedy is the smartest person I know!” And he leapt through the portal. 

“Huh.” Penelope grinned, stepping through. “And he was  _ right _ . I  _ am _ a super-impressive, super-amazing hacker.” 

Mishka spent an obligatory moment as someone dressed in all black, silently contemplating the middle distance before she followed. What she fell into was water. Water and chaos. 

“Why are you taking damage points?!” Mars was shouting. 

Friedhelm, standing in the waist deep water of the swimming pool, and most certainly decreasing in health, shouted back, “I don’t have any swim ability!” 

“Why does that matter?!” Mars was incredibly distressed.

“It means I can’t touch bodies of water because I can’t swim!” 

“But—”

“Mars! Do something!” 

Spurred to action by the idea of taking action, Mars swept Friedhelm up, out of the water, and set him on his shoulders, holding his legs. Friedhelm sighed deeply, resting his elbows on Mars’s head and his chin in his hands. “Thank you.” 

“ _ Why, _ ” Penelope asked, annoyed, “didn’t you just get  _ out _ of the pool?” 

“Couldn’t. There’s no ladder.” Friedhelm responded. 

There was, in fact, no ladder. And so they couldn’t leave. Didn’t matter that being on Mars shoulder put Friedhelm well above the pool wall. Logic didn’t matter here.

“Well, if we’re stuck here, and I’ve already got Friedy on my shoulders… Chicken?”

The response was unanimous. “No!” Mars looked dejected and packed away his excitement for games of water violence.

“Ugh.” Penelope was doing her best to keep her handheld dry as she typed. 

During the minor ordeal, Mishka had used her extremely high observation stats to notice that they were all in swimsuits: generic, solid color swimsuits that matched the essence of each player. Black one piece for Mishka, pink bikini for Penelope, red trunks for Mars, and lilac trunks for Friedhelm. She found the change in skin irritating, but it was breathable enough. 6/10, could kill in this. 

“Where are we, anyways?” Mars asked, keenly looking around. 

“A simulation game. You wouldn’t like it.” Friedhelm pat Mars’s head. “There’s nothing to win.”

“Oh, boring.” 

“ _ Super _ boring.” Penelope opened a portal. “Do you  _ see _ this swimsuit?” 

In the next game, set in a very nice ocean-side resort, everyone would be seeing a lot less of that swim-suit. 

“Oh,  _ excellent _ !” Penelope even felt inspired enough by her new fushia string bikini to let her hair down again. With a flick of the wrist, she appeared a pair of white designer shades from her inventory (a gift from John, level 23.) “I think we were  _ dying _ for a break.” And, even though no one really agreed with that, she was the one creating the portals so it was an executive decision. 

“Wait…” Friedhelm said weakly, not nearly as pleased by the modifications to his own swim trunks, the entire back panel of which was replaced with fine mesh. 

Mars, now in a speedo, smacked him on the back. “I bet I can guess what this game is about, eh?”

The mage’s shoulders sank. “... it’s a volleyball game.” 

“It— really? Cool! That’s even better! Hey, Mishka—” He looked over his shoulder and stopped short upon seeing her new black one-piece, now missing diamond cuts from the stomach, sides, and back. “Whoa.” 

She scowled. She wouldn’t be able to move effectively at all in this garbage contraption now that her chest was at risk of falling out. And what would it benefit her to be ‘be attractive?’ Attraction? What a waste of everyone’s time.

Mars winked. “Hey! I can see your skin! I had no idea you had so many cool scars. You must be even more badass than I thought! I was gonna ask if you wanted to play some v-ball with me?”

Friedhelm smilled a shy little smile. “Do you even know how to play that game?”

“No!” 

“I can explain it to you. There’s a match going on over there right now. Are you joining us, Mishka?” 

She shook her head. “Not yet. I need to see about something.”

While the boys wandered off to the nearest beach volleyball game, beside which Penelope was sunbathing, Mishka found the in-game store. 

“I want to see the skins,” she said to the skimpily dressed shopkeep. 

“O.K!” The options were pulled up. 

Mishka scrolled through them before setting on something tolerable. “This one.”

“That will be 20 USD!” 

Damn micro-transactions. “What can I actually buy with in-game currency, then?” 

“A randomized loot box!” 

She sighed. “Fine.” It couldn’t get worse, right?

It did.

“This,” she said of the suit that she had just won, “is just bondage.” 

“Hahahahaha!” said the shopkeep. 

Mishka sighed again. She looked over to where Mars had joined a game. At least this new one would hold things in. “Are there any straight male NPCs in this game?” 

“No men at all!” 

“What about lesbians?” 

“There are no gay people in video games!” 

It would have to do. So Mishka took the gamble, switched skins, and joined Mars’s game— ready to destroy someone at something and ignoring Penelope’s delighted comment about how bondage was  _ so in season right now _ ! In the background of that game, Friedhelm had sat down on a beach chair next to Penelope. He expected she would ignore him in favor of… whatever it was she did. Then he could get some quality thinking time to think about this mission and how dangerous it had been and would get and to check if his XP had increased his level. 

“Hey~ Friedy.”

Friedy? A ~? The mage glanced over to find two blue eyes, over white shades, searing into him. “Uhm… yeah?” He didn’t know if he should sound so nervous. 

Her arm snaked out, snatching his wrist, and yanking him down into a lying position on the chair as she manually dragged hers closer. Her blond hair cascaded down her bare, tan shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. “ _ Let’s talk about boys _ .” 

“About… what now?” 

“About  _ boys _ , Friedhelm.  _ Boys _ ! I’m  _ dying _ ! No one else  _ understands _ me!”

“I don’t think that I understand—” 

“What about Mars, Friedhelm?  _ Hmmm? _ Tell me about  _ Mars _ ! Just  _ relax _ !” 

Friedhelm felt his face get really hot. “Oh. Oh, he’s, uh, attractive.” 

“ _ Yes,  _ you’re  _ right _ ! He  _ is _ ! Elaborate on that. Tell me  _ more _ .”

“And he’s kind?” 

“Yeesh, well, okay, but what about what’s  _ interesting _ ? Do you wanna, like, sleep with him?” She leaned in closer, only for him to jerk back. 

“Penny!” he hissed, mortified. 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, too strong. What  _ do  _ you want to do then?”

Friedhelm just shook his head a few dozen times in rapid succession. Penelope pushed her sunglasses up her nose and gently reclined backwards. “Fine.  _ My _ turn then.” She took a deep breath. “ _ So,  _ the guy that  _ I  _ want to start dating next is named Alek, and he’s  _ hot _ —  _ super _ hot— and very mysterious. Like he’s got a dark side, a real tragic backstory. Bad boys are a timeless trend.”

“Is that all you… know?”

“For  _ now _ . You don’t need  _ much _ , Friedhelm.” She popped her lips. “I could talk about my  _ old  _ husbands if you want  _ details _ .” 

Did old mean… divorced? Friedhelm wasn’t sure if he would be rude in asking. “No thank you.” 

“Okay, so then what’s there to do  _ here _ ?” she implied a who. 

Friedhelm looked around, “I think this game is all girls. And what about, uh, Alek?”

As far as Alek went, she just laughed. “Oh, Friedy, if girls are literally my  _ only _ option, I  _ could  _ swing it. I’m not like, a homophobe.”

“I didn’t say… That’s not what…” Oh boy. That was a lot to unpack. Should he try? He decided against it. “Or we could just, you know, not flirt with anyone and take a nap?” 

“ _ You _ could.” 

And he did. 

Meanwhile, Penelope got bored because of the blatant lack of hot boys and gossip partners, and she decided it was time to leave. Thus, after some amount of time, Friedhelm was woken up by arguing. More accurately, Mars shouting: “DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM!”

“ _ No! _ ” Penelope said in a way that implied she was repeating herself. “I don't know  _ what  _ that game  _ is _ , but if  _ you _ want it so bad we're taking the  _ other _ route.”

Friedhelm sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What's….”

“DOOOOOOM— Hey, buddy. Tell Penny here you wanna go through Doom next.”

“I don't want to go through Doom, Mars.” Friedhelm sighed. “No one wants to go through Doom. What are the other options, Penny?”

“Well. It's either the  _ Doom _ route, which is the shortest route to Wolfenstein, or the  _ better _ route which is Soul Calibur-Skyrim-Fallout.” 

Friedhelm’s eyes lit up at Skyrim. But he wanted to be fair to Mars so he asked what made the Doom route shorter. Maybe if the path was just Doom then Wolfenstein, it would be worth it. 

“And Mortal Kombat,” she replied disdainfully. 

“Oh.” That really didn't help Mars’s case, in Friedhelm’s opinion. “I'd like to see Skyrim, personally. What does Mishka—”

“Don't involve me.”

“... Please, Mars?”

He laughed. “Fine, fine. I've already beat all those games anyways! Penny! Hit it!”

“ _ Good.  _ I  _ win _ _. _ Like Always .” she said, opening the portal, ready to leave this hellish, boyless land.


	8. Level 7

**Level Seven**

In the next game, a one-on-one fighting game, they had regained their armor. Much to Penelope’s chagrin, her outfit was now tagged (ruined) in her inventory. And it didn’t look like there was a single store. Must be the kind of game where clothes came from achievements.  _ Ugh _ . She wouldn’t even bother to hack herself into those clothes ‘cause then she’d look like she’d  _ fought _ someone. 

“You wanna do a quick round with me, Mishka?” Mars said while Penelope worked. “A quick one-v-one?” 

The blonde snorted, and Friedhelm rolled his eyes at her.

“Sure.” They summoned a fighting stage, allowing each other a moment to look over the combo lists for the game. And while some of the moves seemed pretty cool, like dagger whirlwind and shadow strike, there was also one called butt slam. Mishka resolved not to use it. 

This time Mars was more ready for Mishka’s ranged style and made sure not to rush into any attacks that would leave him open, especially as his massive sword meant a much longer power-up time than her tiny, and throwable, daggers. The assassin would dart in close for strikes while he powered up, watching the sword arch until that critical moment when it would hit her, and she had to flip backwards to dodge the radius of damage by the blow. On Mars’s part, he had to maintain a constant block to deflect the range of the knives she could throw. He took the time to power up only when she got close enough that he knew she wouldn’t be using a ranged attack, or when she was in the air. Mishka was steadily decreasing some kind of meter at Mars’s waist with her close strikes. She had a similar meter, and she thought it must have been a health meter until she was too slow to dodge one of his swings. 

Her top exploded off, leaving only a black bra. They both stopped. 

“Why?” Mishka had never encountered this in a game before. “Why.” 

“That’s your armor gauge!” Mars said. 

Mishka threw a knife, emptying the meter she’d been working on. Mars’s pants exploded. He laughed.

Mishka quit the match. “Time to go, Golden Girl.”

“ _ About time _ , I’ve had it open for, like,  _ a whole minute _ .” 

When they stepped out of the portal, they found themselves fully dressed. Thank God, Mishka thought. Thank God. In fact, they found themselves wearing more clothing than they began with— even Penelope had on a very fashionable winter outfit, complete with a stole made from the pelt of some spotted cat. Mishka was back in her leather armor and Friedhelm in his wizard’s robes, though they also donned more fur than usual. Mars, on the other hand, sported different armor than was customary for him. Instead of his usual chainmail, he wore armor that consisted of a metal breastplate, gauntlets, and boots, with leather and hide underneath. Between his collarbones was a snarling wolf rising out of the armor, and the wolf motif was carried throughout the other pieces in the forms of skulls and teeth.

Penelope shielded her eyes against the blizzard. “Hey, Mars. Is that a  _ new outfit _ ?”

Mars glanced down, admiring his armor. “Oh, yeah. I’ve beaten this game. Liked the Companion armor enough to keep it.”

“ _ Hm.  _ It’s kinda  _ drab _ , it hides your figure, and animal motifs are  _ so  _ last year. Four out of ten.”

Mars seemed a little downtrodden after that.

“ _ Anyway _ , I’ll have the next portal open in just a sec.”

“Wait!” Friedhelm spoke up. “Wait! Guys! With the XP Share, I’m level fifteen now… I could buy some new spellbooks. Could we stick around a while?”

Penelope shot daggers at Friedhelm with her eyes. It was  _ so  _ cold, and fur has been out of style for like… a  _ long  _ time. “Absolutely  _ n _ —”

“Of course, buddy!” Mars stepped in front of Penelope, silencing her. “What’s good for you is good for the team!” He sent a pointed look toward the hacker.

Before she could protest, they were attacked by a wolf. And a bandit. And several vampires. A dragon roared in the distance.

“Wow, I forgot how much I love this game!” Mars quickly dispatched their enemies, with a little help from Mishka.

Friedhelm stood to the side, awkwardly sidestepping a giant crab that was attempting to join the fray. When the battle was said and done, he went to Mars and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey. Next fight, after I get some spells, can you let me have a chance before you just… obliterate them all?”

Mars beamed warmly at the little mage. “Of course, Friedhelm.” The larger man clasped his hand on the mage’s shoulder, and for a moment Friedhelm was incredibly aware of how intimate the mutual gesture was. “Let’s get you some spells!”

After an hour or so of walking straight up a few mountains and multiple encounters with teams of vampires and bandits, the party finally found themselves in a city large enough to have a spell merchant. Friedhelm tore through the shop excitedly, examining the selection of spell tomes and smelling several spell ingredients. Mishka couldn’t help but notice the red ‘steal’ option above every item, and for a moment she contemplated it, but she wasn’t sure why troll fat was worth stealing anyway. Mars and Penelope tried their best not to touch anything— Mars for fear of breaking something, and Penelope for fear of _ bugs _ and  _ giant’s toes _ and weird  _ glowing salts _ . In the end, Friedhelm purchased tomes for several elemental damage-dealing spells and a minor heal. He had to borrow a little money from Mars, but the larger man was happy to give it. ‘Anything for you, buddy,’ and all that.

When they stepped outside, Mishka and Mars decided to explore the town; upgrade their armor and weapons, shop for supplies, and stock up on potions. They left Penelope to flirt with the local townsmen, and Friedhelm to engross himself in his spellbooks.

Which, actually, took no time at all. Friedhelm opened each book, one by one, and read the title page before closing it, feeling the new knowledge course through him. As he closed each book, it vanished. It was then that he felt Penny’s eyes on him. She had paused her flirting to stare.

“Hey, Friedhelm. What the hell?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m ready. We can go.”

“What? You— we _ paid money _ for those. You took one glance at them and they  _ disintegrated _ .”

“Yeah, well, that’s all it really takes to learn spells here. I would be concerned about actually knowing how to perform the castings, but I’ve been practicing how to do these spells for years.”

“So… what did you  _ learn  _ then?”

“Uh. Y’know. The… ability to select them in my menu?”

“ _ Six hundred _ gold pieces… for  _ that _ ?”

Friedhelm shrugged. “Yeah, well, y’know. Beholden to the logic of the game, and all.”

Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m a  _ hacker, remember _ ? You’re not at all beholden to the game logic. If you  _ know  _ how to  _ do  _ the spells, I could just  _ give them  _ to you.”

Oh. “Oh,” Friedhelm said. Oh.

“HeyGuysWe’reBackAndGuessWhoHasPresents!” Mars belted from behind the pair.

Friedhelm felt himself momentarily overcome with war flashbacks. Gods no, not presents…

Mars was grinning, though, and that was comforting enough to Friedhelm. Mishka seemed genuinely happy as well, and while the slight but genuine smile on her face was a little disconcerting, Friedhelm decided it was a good sign.

“Mars and I upgraded our armor and weapons, and we found some stuff for the two of you!” Mishka proudly presented Penelope with a circlet, an amulet, and a matching ring.

Penelope scrunched up her nose. “Uh, listen. I know I said some  _ stuff _ while we were at the beach. And you looked pretty good in that swimsuit. But I’m really  _ not _ —” 

Mishka rolled her eyes, her usual expression of mild annoyance returning. Ah, the comfort that can be found in deadpan eyes and a slight furrow of the brow. “No, Penny, I’m not into you. Or anyone. We’ve been over this. But these are enchanted, they’ll act like armor.”

“ _ Ohhhhh. _ ” The blonde girl looked the jewelry over. They were a little crude, but you couldn’t really go wrong with large, lavish precious stones. She’d never wear ugly armor, but it  _ would  _ be nice to be a little less concerned about getting hit. And wasn’t hammered metal coming into style when she left her game? “Well, then, I  _ accept _ . The jewelry, not your proposal.”

Mishka sighed as she handed over the jewelry, but she decided it was worth it. Penny would be safer now, even if only a little, and that was what mattered.

“And for you, Friedy, we got a big staff!” Mars tossed the staff at the mage with an excited grin.

Friedhelm struggled to catch the staff, fumbling it for several seconds before grasping it. Damned low dex stat. The staff was quite big; six-or-so inches taller than the mage who would soon wield it. Despite that, it felt comfortable in his hands. It fit, and he could feel his magic reach out to the staff and accept it.

“What does it do?” Mars asked.

“You… bought it, and you don’t know?” Friedhelm wasn’t sure why he found that surprising.

“Well, yeah. We just figured, it was magic and stuff. That seemed good enough.” 

Hm. Well, he could tell that he could channel his own magic through the staff, but the next step would be figuring out whether the staff came with its own ability. There were some targets and archers practicing nearby, so he figured that would be a solid place to start. He approached the targets and, before he reached the line of archers, let off a shot.

Lightning erupted from the staff, and for just a moment Friedhelm felt powerful. Then, he felt shock and guilt as electricity hit several of the archers, as well as a small child that was running up to him, insisting she’d beat him in a race.

Ah. He hadn’t expected the staff to come with an A.O.E. spell. Aah.

Guards came running toward the group as the archers and child began to stand up. “Halt! You have committed crimes against—”

“Hm. Penny, I messed up. Time to go.”

“About time.” With that, the hacker opened a portal into the next game.

The team stepped out of the portal into a barren wasteland with graphics not unlike the previous game, but with very little to see anywhere but the mountains on the horizon. That is, of course, except for the dozens of giant roaches that all turned to look at the four as the portal vanished behind them.

“Oh God,” Penelope said. “Oh God.”

Mars unsheathed his sword, readying it in front of him. “Penny, chill out. Stay calm and open the next portal. Friedhelm, knock ‘em dead.”

Suddenly Friedhelm wasn’t as psyched about being useful in combat. With trepidation, he closed his eyes and lifted his staff, pointing it toward the mass of roaches. “Firebolt!”

He felt the magic surge from within him, through his hands and into the staff, and then he felt the sweet release of it. He opened one eye, the other still scrunched shut, and he realized that he’d one-shot the roach. He jumped with excitement as the distinct smell of burnt bug filled the air. “Guys! I did it! Mars, I did that! Me!”

Mars smiled back at the mage. “Good, now keep doing it!” After that, the fighter surged into action with Mishka following close behind. Friedhelm stayed back, picking off roaches from a distance and covering Penelope until she opened the portal.

“ _ Guys _ it’s  _ open  _ let’s  _ get out of here _ !”

The team wasted no time leaving this horrible, horrible land.

And then they entered into an almost as horrible, horrible land: Nazi America.

It was much more urban, with the heroes finding themselves in a modern infirmary. From down the nearby hallway, shots were being fired, the sounds of which ricocheted around the metal box of a room they were in in an extremely unpleasant manner. What the group assumed to be soldiers shouted in what the group assumed to be German.

“This the right game, Penny?” Mars glanced around the room, trying to make sense of why on earth a game would start you in an infirmary.

“I  _ think _ so— Yes! This is Wolfenstein! Ordinarily, we’d have to play through like  _ the whole game  _ before we could fight Hitler, but I think I can get us into the boss room from here…”

Mars gave Penelope a shocked look, hurt in his eyes. “Penelope… are you… a speedrunner?” The fighter formed the last word as though he were a preacher and it were in a demonic tongue, loading it with disgust as if it pained him to utter it.

Penelope blinked. “Ya?”

Mars hung his head in disappointment. “I trusted you.”

Penelope blinked again. “Well, I just looked it up and if we sprint toward  _ that  _ wall,” Penelope pointed at a small glitching texture across the room, “and jump at the last second we’ll end up pretty close to the boss room, and then we can just glitch through the floor from there.”

Friedhelm shivered. He hated glitching. Nonetheless, the shouting and gunshots were getting closer.

“I’m not going to cheat my way to the boss!” Mars protested.

Mishka put her hand on Mars’s upper arm. “Mars, the goal is to defeat Robo-Hitler. And Robo-Hitler is through that wall.”

The more resistant members of the team resigned themselves then. Mars dropped his shoulders and sighed. “Fine, but just let it be known that I do not support this type of level circumvention under any other circumstances!”

The four of them readied themselves for the glitch. Mishka went first, leaping into the blinking texture mesh with no complications. Penelope followed, then Friedhelm, after a brief self-pep talk. Mars considered momentarily turning around and taking the natural path of the game, but he thought better of it. They’d need his help beating Robo-Hitler. So with one last huff, he made a running start toward the glitch, leapt, and joined his friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Press A to Start was written by the writers of Steel & Spice!  
>  If you like what we do, and you want to see more of it, follow us on twitter @Spicesteel or on tumblr @steelandspice.  
> (And that's where the art is!)


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